


Ink Revolution

by Gabethebabe



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Fake ID's, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Relationship, Tattoos, Teenage Rebellion, also this isn't like....shippy it's more like, in this they're just prickly friends, soft core editing, tattoo artist dad, this author is an english major with a huge kink for southern gothic, who like to snap at each other to show their affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabethebabe/pseuds/Gabethebabe
Summary: “Well, you’re 1 for 3, which means you’re definitely going to get caught and get in serious trouble.” Lucien lowered his arm and passed Ernest his ID.“Don’t you mean we’re going to get in serious trouble?”“No, I mean you. No one’s going to suspect that I, Lestate Tigress of 1994 Claudia Drive, born on October 3, 1996 am anyone else than I say I am.”The sheer confidence in his voice made Ernest narrow his eyes once more. He shoved his ID in the front pocket of his hoodie and said: “Yeah, until I rat you out. If I’m going down I’m dragging you down with me.”





	Ink Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> My dad's name is Ferdinand de Vries. I was going to pick something more subtle....but when there's a canon last name like Bloodmarch I feel like you can really do whatever you want tbh.

“My father and I are completely different! How could you even--” Lucien started, only to be interrupted by Ernest’s now signature scoff and eye roll.

“You both wear all black, white face paint, and talk nonstop about how _poetic_ death is. You’re both goth. You’re basically, like, the same person.”

 “We are completely different people. We aren’t even the same type of goth! He’s a historically accurate neo-romanticism goth and I’m a mall goth.” Lucien said, then after yet another eye roll from Ernest muttered to himself: _“we don’t even use the same eye shadow pallets_ ” and _“completely different.”_

“All I heard was He’s a goth and I’m a goth.”

Now it was Lucien’s turn to scoff and roll his eyes. He thought of a few rather biting remarks about Ernest’s relationship with his own father and his clearly lacking level of intelligence, but he swallowed them. They had nearly reached the tattoo shop, the night air wrapping around both of them in an unforgiving chill, and Lucien didn’t fancy the idea of starting an argument and having to stand outside in the cold any longer than needed.

Ernest stopped just before the door. He turned back to look at Lucien, the neon signs that spelled out _open_ and _tipping makes it hurt less_ painted his skin various shades of red, blue, and green. He stuck his hand out expectedly, his dark brown brows furrowed in a serious sort of expression.

“What?” but as soon as he asked, Lucien realized what Ernest wanted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out their fake ID’s. Ernest’s used his school photo, which admittedly he looked way closer to eight than eighteen in, and Lucien’s used his actual driver’s license picture. Lucien looked both of them over, quickly memorizing both the fake name and fake street address on his.

When Ernest got tired of waiting he reached out to grab his out of Lucien’s hand, prompting Lucien to raise arms so that the fake ID was just out of Ernest’s reach. Ernest made to jump for it, but with no anvil.

“Give here, asshole!”

“Chill, dude. I will in a second, but first tell me: what’s your name?”

Ernest looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on earth, his eyes scrunched and eyebrows raised. “Do I seriously have to answer that question? How long have we known each other? 

“The name on your ID, dumbass.” Lucien hissed.

“Oh…..uh….” Ernest trailed off. He pulled out his vape and pressed it against his lips as he thought, one of his more noticeable nervous habits.

“William Faulkner Polaris.” Lucien said, then asked “What’s your address?”

“Uh….” Ernest said again, sounded even more unsure this time than he had last time. 

“1930 Emily Rose Lane.” The address, as well as the street name, were both Lucien’s idea, and thought he would never admit it, he was proud of the limited literary knowledge he had gained from Mr. Vega that allowed him to come up with them. “What about date of birth?”

“February 1st, 1998.” Ernest supplied with a prideful tone. Unlike the rest of the ID, the birth date had been his idea

“Well, you’re 1 for 3, which means you’re definitely going to get caught and get in serious trouble.” Lucien lowered his arm and passed Ernest his ID.

“Don’t you mean _we’re_ going to get in serious trouble?” He asked suspiciously, not looking up as he tried to memorize the information on the ID.

“No, I mean _you_. No one’s going to suspect that I, Lestate Tigress of 1994 Claudia Drive, born on October 3, 1996 am anyone else than I say I am.”

The sheer confidence in his voice made Ernest narrow his eyes once more. He shoved his ID in the front pocket of his hoodie and said: “Yeah, until I rat you out. If I’m going down I’m dragging you down with me.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I got you that ID-- you owe me.”

Ernest’s mouth opened around a retort, but before he could say anything the door to the tattoo shop opened, the greeting bell jingling as a far too familiar face stepped out behind Lucien. Ernest’s mouth closed and his eyes went wide.

“Hello, boys.” Lucien heard their neighbor, and both of their father’s good friend, Ferdinand behind him. For a brief moment Lucien hoped that he hadn’t overheard any of that, but Ferdinand’s normally chipper voice sounded far too sharp for that hope to be a reality. “What’s this I hear about fake IDs?”

“None of your business, old man!” Ernest snapped, his hands burying himself deeper in his hoodie, no doubt grasping for the piece of plastic.

The corners of Ferdinand’s mouth dropped slightly, his head tilting to the side as they did. “You’re right it’s not,” he paused for a moment, and both Lucien and Ernest thought that they had won but then he added: “It’s your fathers’ business. I should call them and let them deal with this instead.”

That got a _“not cool, dude!”_ and a _“no! Come on!”_ from Lucien and Ernest respectively. Ferdinand’s frowned deepened, as if in deep thought, and he brought a hand up to his chin. 

“Well, I supposed it we could reach a…. _compromise_ of sorts.” He said carefully, looking them over.

Ernest nodded in acceptable immediately, but Lucien only crossed his arms in distrust.

“What kind of compromise are we talking about, old man?” 

“You give me your fakies, promise not to get new ones made, and I’ll give you both temporary tats free of charge.”

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected his dad’s best friend, of all people, to be kinda cool about something like this. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You’ll get all the fun of a real tattoo: the pain, the bragging rights, the being able to freak out your dads, and the body aesthetic, or whatever Amanda calls it, but without making any lifelong decisions.” Ferdinand said, a small quirk in his upper lip.

Lucien looked at Ernest, who only nodded back at him, then back at Ferdinand. “Alright we’ll do it.”

Ferdinand held out his hand expectantly, not unlike Ernest had a few minutes ago, and both boys handed the IDs over to him. A flicker of amusement passed over his face as he read over the IDs. “William Faulkner Polaris and Lestat were nice touches, but next time just go with normal names. They’re way less likely to attract any unwanted attention.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t allowed for there to be a next time.” Lucien asked, teasingly.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Lucien, I know how this song and dance goes.” He shoved the cards into his front pocket and winked at them good naturedly. “Believe it or not I wasn’t always a middle-aged man that got excited over buffet coupons-- I was just like you two once.”

“Is that why you’re being so cool about this?” Ernest asked.

“Well, yeah and, like I said, I know how this goes. If I did end up calling your dads and squashing this attempt at rebellion, who knows how much stupider, permanent, or even dangerous the next attempt would have been? It’s best to let you kids get this out of your system.”

Lucien fought back a comment about how his _next attempt_ at rebellion was most likely going to involve Ferdinand’s front door and a carton of eggs, but he swallowed his remark once more. He didn’t think Ferdinand would appreciate the half-threat half-joke, especially when he was doing them this big of a favor.

“Okay,” was all he could think so say. 

“Great. Glad we could come to an agreement…. especially one so…. _skin-deep_.” Ferdinand smiled at them, clearly happy of the stupid joke.

Ernest only rolled his eyes and muttered _“you’re worse than Hugo”_ which only seemed to make Ferdinand laugh. He kept a smile on his face as he held the door open for the two teens. They shuffled in, the heat radiating out of the tattoo parlor reminding Lucien of how miserably cold it had been outside.

“So who’s going to be our tattoo artist? Someone cool right?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, he likes to think he’s cool. You two and Amanda might disagree though.” He led them down a narrow hallway off of the lobby and into a brightly painted room. A tattoo bench sat in the center of the room, posters and hideous bright green paint covered the walls, and a small desk covered in various drawing materials sat in the corner. The sight of the room made Lucien’s heart hammer in his chest a little, before he reminded himself that what he was about to do would only last for a few months at most. Surprisingly that seemed to calm him down rather than disappoint him.

“Ugh, it’s not going to be you, is it?” Ernest asked, the slightest bit of anxiety flashing across his face as well as he looked around the small room. 

Ferdinand snapped finger guns at them, a move they had both seen Amanda do countless times, before walking back and sitting at the cluttered desk. 

Ernest rolled his eyes again, not that Ferdinand could see from where he sat, but walked further in the room anyway. The two teens took a seat next to one another on the tattoo bench and watched as Ferdinand opened his sketch pad to a blank page.

He turned to them, making eye contact with Lucien first: “so, what were you thinking?”

**Author's Note:**

> I love my angsty sons. But what tattoos do you think they would want? I feel like Lucien would wanted something 3 edgy 5 u like a russian prison tattoo and idk about ernest. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Maybe leave me a kudos or a comment if you liked it?? Feel free to scream at me about this game on tumblr (king-ludwig-ii)  
> Have a wonderful day! <3


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